


Summer Paradise

by Gloomier



Series: Tea's Fic Funbox [3]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Dancing, Fluff, Humor, M/M, bagginshield summer surprise, unrelenting soppiness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-17
Updated: 2017-07-17
Packaged: 2018-12-03 07:57:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11527932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gloomier/pseuds/Gloomier
Summary: Prompt fill for the Bagginshield Summer Surprise event over on Tumblr. I got Bilbo’s POV & "Summer festival … That means dancing as well, I imagine."There might be no way to escape unrelenting soppiness, but Bilbo draws the line at and refuses to be killed by cake, thank you very much.Thorin may also be the Dancing King (he really likes to dance, okay).





	Summer Paradise

Bilbo weaves his way through the crowd, careful to avoid the more enthusiastic of the festival goers, lest he spill his fresh ale. Well, not his ale, but one he had gone after when Thorin was swept away by Prim and Drogo’s energetic son, Frodo. He finds himself a good spot to watch the dancers twirl and laugh, though he can’t help but grin watching Frodo stand on Thorin’s feet as they dance.

It had taken quite a lot of _persuading_ to get Thorin to come with him back to the Shire for a vacation. Bilbo would have much preferred to return a long time ago, only the work in Erebor never seems to abate; there is always something that needs to be handled. Oh, he has no issue helping Thorin and the rest of his dwarves, of course, he rather enjoys it really, but he was bound to return to the Shire eventually - even if it’s to say goodbye. Not that he would ever stop visiting permanently; no, the Shire is as much a part of him as Erebor is now.

Admittedly, he misses the little things about his former home. Specifically the celebrations.

Though if Bilbo is honest, it would likely take little convincing for Erebor to embrace some of the Shire’s celebrations. The mountain’s citizens gained a penchant for partying once the better part of the city restorations were officially completed.

The music speeds up now, prompting the dancers to also quicken their steps. Bilbo can hardly contain his laughter as Thorin scoops Frodo into his arms just to keep up with the lively rhythm.

But perhaps Erebor does need more reasons to celebrate, Bilbo thinks as he watches Thorin spin himself and Frodo around a bit clumsily. Thorin is a magnificent king who loves his job, but he hasn’t quite cottoned on yet that being king doesn’t mean he must overwork himself till the end of his reign. Bilbo would put a party on every day for the rest of eternity if it meant Thorin could relax more than once a year.

All the dancers come to stop with the music and the brief silence is filled with applause and cheering. Thorin lowers Frodo back onto the ground and in the blink of an eye the rascal is gone, likely returning to his pack of wild cousins. Thorin, on the other hand, approaches him with a dazzlingly wide grin that never fails to stupify Bilbo. His words fail him, as usual, and instead he passes Thorin the tankard of ale, who quaffs it like he hasn’t had a drink of anything in days.

“You hobbits are a handful,” Thorin pants at him, wiping away the ale that dribbled down his beard during his ale guzzling.

“I resent that remark,” he huffs. Thorin’s grin grows wider with Bilbo’s mock indignance and all he can think is how illegal it should be for Thorin to look so handsome. “You’re welcome for the ale, by the way. I almost drank it myself.”

“I appreciate that you went out of your way to get me an ale, Master Baggins,” Thorin thanks him with an accompanying gracious bow, one that Bilbo hasn’t quite figured out if it means Thorin is teasing him or not. Though, Thorin knows good and well not to call him Master Baggins these days.

And Bilbo knows immediately that Thorin is having him on when the ass opens his mouth again and says: “But I would have much preferred red wine. However, I appreciate your good deed nonetheless.”

Bofur once told him that when he seemed irritated he wiggled his nose a bit, just like a bunny (which he supposed was partly why Beorn called him Bunny in the first place). There have been numerous occasions over these past few years where any members of the company present whilst he was irritated broke out into snickers, marking those moments when he wiggled his nose. Which explains why Thorin is doing a terrible job at hiding his own snickering right this very moment.

“Well, you’re welcome to get your own drink next time,” he grumbles, blushing a little.

The band chooses that moment to strike up a tune, much slower than the previous piece, and Bilbo witnesses Thorin visibly perk up.

“Would you do me the honor of dancing with me, Bilbo?” Thorin asks, offering Bilbo a hand.

Valar above, he can’t deny Thorin anything when the dwarf is giving him such a soft look and an easy smile. _Damn._ It’s damn near sacrilegious to confess, but Bilbo has never been very adept at dancing, or gardening for that matter - two of the biggest staples for hobbit society.

“Must I?” Bilbo sighs.

Thorin doesn’t wilt or back down, in fact, the dwarf seems resolved to get him to dance.

“Correct me if I’m wrong but, were you not that one who said, and I quote, ‘It’s a summer festival… That means dancing as well, I imagine’?”

_Double damn._

He slips his hand into Thorin’s who hands off his empty cup to Hamfast, who is all too happy to take it off his hands, and leads him out into the sea of dancing hobbits. Thorin stops once they’re in the middle of the other dancing couples and pulls Bilbo close, leaving him a little breathless. One of Thorin’s large hands settles on his lower back, while the other seeks his left hand; the hand Thorin isn’t holding Bilbo allows to rest upon Thorin’s broad shoulder. Then they’re dancing and Bilbo is slowly remembering the steps, and he might have just stepped on Thorin’s toes there but the king doesn’t flinch, that soft smile remains ever-present on his face.

“Marry me,” Thorin says as he spins Bilbo out, then back in.

What a ridiculous thing to say during a dance.

“We’re already married, you clod,” Bilbo groans, because really, what else is there to do in the face of an extremely soppy king, anyway? Nothing, that’s what. There’s no escaping it.

“Marry me again, then,” Thorin declares. “Primula was telling me about how much fun hobbit weddings are, even suggested I make an honest hobbit out of you. Do hobbits really shove cake into each other’s faces to celebrate the occasion?”

He drops his head to Thorin’s chest and whines in defeat.

“You should have told them we were married to begin with, dearest,” Thorin chuckles.

Maybe, but Bilbo really just wanted to avoid all the hubbub returning with a husband would have definitely stirred up. Not that it matters now, Prim has likely told half the revelers about a potential wedding between him and his dwarf.

Okay, so there might be a little part of him excited by the prospect of having a second wedding, but only because he’d get a chance to see that look of unbridled joy carved into Thorin’s face again. He nearly exploded trying to keep all of his emotions contained the first time; though, he certainly exploded alright, later that same evening when they finally got their alone time. Who knew ten minutes of happy crying could be so cathartic?

“We’re not planning it,” he says resolutely into Thorin’s chest, words muffled by his tunic. It’s as good a yes as Thorin’s going to get, and there’s no way in hell he’s planning another silly wedding. The first time was hell and Dís was, and still is, an absolute Balrog, lighting his arse about every little thing, right down to the design of the candelabras and the anklets he would wear.  

“Primula also kindly offered her help,” Thorin supplies.

Bilbo lifts his head off Thorin’s chest and smiles, and Thorin takes the opportunity to dip him as the song comes to its end.

“I suppose I have no real arguments against getting married, then. Of course I’ll marry you,” Bilbo says, pitching his voice just a little louder to get the gossip going.

The crowd really starts to buzz when Thorin leans down to kiss his cheek before bringing them out of the dip.

“And you’re not shoving cake in my face,” he amends pointedly, lifting the hand on Thorin’s shoulders to waggle a finger at him. “You’re suppose to eat it, not kill your husband with it.”

“But there will be dancing, right?” Thorin pouts, and Bilbo is proud to have nipped that in the bud right now. He survived talking to a dragon, and he’s not going to live to be killed by a piece of cake.

“Yes, dear, there will be lots of dancing.”

Yes, Erebor will definitely be seeing more hobbity holidays (perhaps even some made up ones).

**Author's Note:**

> [My Tumblr](https://tea-blitz.tumblr.com/)


End file.
